


One Step Away

by Missyhissy3



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8999443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missyhissy3/pseuds/Missyhissy3
Summary: He steps out in front of her





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on ffn in November 2014 and beta read by northernexposure. 
> 
> I've decided to post a few of my stories here on AO3 - just the ones I still like - in case one day ffn collapses under the sheer weight of everything uploaded onto it! I will carefully re-read each one before posting here, in an attempt to remove any post-beta reading messing that may have allowed mistakes to creep back in. I hope someone here enjoys my offerings.
> 
> Disclaimer: Paramount clearly owns all the characters. Copyright: Paramount  
> 

He steps out in front of her.

He is always behind her, just slightly behind her, where she expects him to be. Where she needs him. If only he'd stayed there where he belongs. She doesn't want this. She never asked for this. Better it were her.

But he steps out and that's enough to put him one step away from her now forever.

She sees it coming, the blast of light. She watches in slow motion as Ayala launches himself at the tall alien. Ayala had been only a metre or so behind the assassin. But the alien keeps his eye on her throughout and manages to discharge his weapon before her security officer can bring him crashing to the ground.

She watches the bolt coming towards her frame by frame as time slows down. The fizzling purple spark is startlingly beautiful, like an exotic alien firework. But it is a primitive missile. Even as it hurtles towards her, her brain questions why someone on this planet whose technology is decades, centuries even, in advance of her own would have need of such barbaric arms.

As soon as she sees it, she knows in that instant that there's no time. And just as she accepts that, Chakotay's body is suddenly in front of her. He must have begun to move out from behind her the instant the alien revealed the weapon.

The force of the blast blows Chakotay back against her and they fall to the ground together. She struggles out from under his dead weight to kneel over his prostrate body, now sprawled in the dust. She grabs his right hand and presses it against the wound with her own too small hand in a vain attempt to cover the hole in his chest. The hole is too big, even for both their hands together. She wrestles off her jacket and stuffs it into the wound, barking orders to get medical help, although anyone can see it's already far too late. The hole in his chest is too deep, too wide. There is too much blood. The alien weapon must have blasted away the larger part of his heart.

This is all wrong. Everything about it is wrong. The blood all over their entwined hands is wrong. His cheek growing ever cooler beneath the fingers of her other hand is wrong.

It's wrong that the colour is fast draining from his bronze skin.

His eyes are open, registering no pain. He is beyond pain. He watches her as the tears begin to fall from her eyes. She witnesses his lips move to try to form his last word. It is the soundless last word of the billions of words he will never say now, and it silently joins all the other words she'd never let him say. This final inaudible utterance is all wrong. She doesn't even know what it is he says. No last words to pass on. Pass on to whom? To his family? He has a sister, she thinks. A sister she's never met. And a cousin. In Ohio.

The light fading from his eyes is wrong. Those dark eyes that conceal so much will never follow her around a room again. He'll never stand behind her again, her silent wall, her protector, her strength. She will have to stand tall without him now. Alone. Brittle. All because of this one last step.

She whimpers. She pleads with him. Begs him to stay. But he just stares, his eyes now dull stones, his sculpted lips still.

She lays her head on his shoulder, her hand still cupping his cooling cheek, her other hand still stuck to his with his blood. She closes her eyes and weeps and weeps.

She repeats his name, "Chakotay, no! Chakotay, no!" as something inside her dies along with him. And then she repeats her apology over and over. "Chakotay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It's all she can think to say.

She feels a creeping, distantly familiar desperation that brings with it inescapable cold; inevitable, pervasive and freezing cold.

This is all wrong. It isn't supposed to be like this. All that constant effort to keep him one step away, the constant tension of all that denial. And for what? In that instant she realises the enormity of her miscalculation. However far away she'd kept him it was always going to feel like this.

No one attempts to move her for several seconds. Then Paris asks her something, his tone urgent. She senses he wants something. He wants her to say yes. So she says yes. She has no idea what he has asked. She becomes aware that her brain has ceased to function in its usual fashion. She doesn't care.

The small group are all transported somewhere – somewhere unfamiliar. She feels even colder.

Paris carefully peels her off Chakotay's fast cooling body. He prizes their bloody fingers apart. He turns her around, forcing her eyes to let go of the better part of her soul. He points her towards the door to this room. She puts one foot in front of the other and she floats forwards on her useless legs, her pilot steering her and supporting the greater part of her insubstantial body weight.

Paris tells her something else. She forces herself to focus this time, asks him to repeat. He says the alien police have already arrested the terrorist assassin and taken him away. She nods. She wants him to leave her alone. She tells him to go help Ayala with Chakotay. He refuses.

"Please, Tom." Then she remembers she is still in command. She should order him to do as she says.

He refuses again. "You have to let me stay with you, Captain, for his sake. He wouldn't have wanted me to leave you on your own."  
She relents.

But that's what he has done, isn't it? He's left her on her own. He said he would stay by her side. He's broken his promise.

She realises she is shivering. Paris takes off his jacket and puts it around her shoulders. She closes her eyes and silently crumples into her pilot's embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

The room is very warm. She isn't shivering anymore. It isn't like any hospital she's ever been in before. It is too quiet. There is little evidence of medical technology.

She allows Paris to steer her towards the figure lying on a slab in the centre of the room. There is an arch housing a large screen over his chest. He is covered from the waist down by a plain white sheet. A single tall alien is standing next to the bed.

Paris is talking again.

"I know it must have seemed like a long time to you, Captain, but they transported him here less than two minutes after he'd been shot. There was still brain activity."

Kathryn looks at Tom, eyes wide, unable to believe in any of this yet.

"Apparently they have the ability to regenerate large areas of tissue, far larger than anything our technology allows. His heart is regenerating."

Paris introduces the tall alien beside them. "This is the relative liaison officer, Captain."

"Greetings, Captain Janeway."

Janeway looks up at him. She nods her acknowledgment as he continues.

"It has been shown to aid recovery if the relatives hold the patient's hand during the regeneration process."

"We're his family out here," Tom replies immediately.

Kathryn looks at Paris again, her eyes still wide, then follows his lead as he takes Chakotay's left hand in his.

Her fingers reach towards the same right hand that was glued to her by his blood not long ago. She hesitates, terrified lest it's still cool. When her fingertips finally touch his clean, bronze skin she inhales sharply as she registers his warmth. Transported here less than two minutes after he'd been shot - she realises her senses must have been deceiving her before - his hand, his cheek, his whole body must have been warm all along. She holds his large hand between both of hers and closes her eyes for an instant, only to open them again almost immediately as she hears Tom speak.

"Look! You can actually see the tissue regenerating. This is extraordinary, Captain. You can watch as it grows."

She follows his gaze to the circular screen on the arch and she gasps. The magnification is such that she can see the cells of her first officer's heart multiplying. A minute elapses in silence as she and Tom watch in awe while Chakotay's heart gradually grows in size before their very eyes.

She realises Paris is talking again. "They have him on some sort of sophisticated bypass system while his heart regenerates. They're confident it'll be completely successful. Apparently this isn't a particularly complex procedure for them."

An hour later she is standing in exactly the same place, still holding his warm hand in hers.

She becomes aware of Paris beside her now. "They're ready to revive him, Captain," he informs her gently.

"Understood," she replies automatically.

The relative liaison officer inclines his head and the arch retracts itself into the alien biobed to reveal Chakotay's smooth, hairless chest. The only evidence of the blast hole that remains is the marginally paler hue of the regenerated skin.

She turns to Tom and smiles.

xXx

She watches as his eyes start to move under closed lids. Perhaps he is dreaming. Then suddenly they open, wide, and his whole body jolts violently. He tries to lift his head off the bed as he looks around wildly. She can tell immediately he's there, whole.

"Kathryn!" he rasps, "get-"

"It's all right," she soothes, still holding his hand, and pressing her other hand to his chest to stop him from trying to get up. "Easy now. You need to lie still for a while longer."

He blinks several times and calms as he seems to make sense of her presence here, unharmed.

She can't seem to stop smiling. She lifts their joined hands and allows them to rest on his bare chest. It feels right.

"Welcome back."

"Kathryn, what happened?" he asks, still blinking.

"Well, let's see… You… got in the way, and the assassin blasted away a large section of your heart."

He swallows. "I died."

"Apparently not."

"How…?" His brow furrows.

"They transported you here while your brain was still active and immediately began regenerating your heart tissue. Their medical technology is truly astounding."

"I… You?"

"I'm fine." A tear spills out onto his chest. "Now." She is still smiling.

He peers down at his chest, searching for evidence of the wound no doubt.

"You'll just be a little two-tone for a while," she says, the fingers of her left hand slowly tracing on his skin the blurred circle of the blast hole.

His attention moves to her face. "That tickles."

She looks up to meet his warm brown eyes, very much alive and twinkling.

"Good," she replies.

"So when can I get out of here?"

"You need to sleep now, they said. And they'll monitor you for a few hours, then we can transport you aboard. But basically, you're as good as new. So, sleep. That's an order."

"Aye Captain," he says, as he holds her gaze and the hand she is still holding gently squeezes hers.

"Thank you, Chakotay," she says simply.

"You're welcome, Kathryn. You'd do the same for me."

"Yes, I would," she replies immediately.

A few moments elapse in silence before she speaks again.

"I was angry with you… before." She holds his gaze, her eyes full, shining. "Because you broke your promise."

"To protect you?" He looks confused.

"No. To stay by my side," she replies as she slowly wipes away another tear.

"Oh. That."

He watches her for a long moment before he speaks again. He lifts his left hand and his fingers gently clasp her upper arm. "But I did, didn't I? Stay by your side, I mean."

"No, actually. You didn't." Her voice wavers for a split second. "You stepped out in front." She surprises him by bringing her free hand up towards his face and gently caressing his cheek with the backs of her fingers.

His eyes widen slightly and then he recovers himself. "Oh, I see. We're being literal here now, are we, Captain?"

"Maybe we are. Maybe I've had enough of your stories, Commander."

"Time for some straight talking?"

"High time."

"OK then. You first," he winks.

Unable to suppress her wide smile, she cocks her head to one side.

"Right now you need to get some rest. They said you need to sleep here for at least four hours, to allow your brand new heart to get used to beating in that… seasoned body."

He chuckles. "Nice save."

She leans in slowly and deliberately, and surprises him again by pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. It feels absolutely right.

"I'll be back in four hours to escort you and your new heart home," she tells him as she draws back.

"We'll be right here waiting for you, I promise," he replies, low, his dark eyes smiling as the hand she's still holding squeezes hers again. Then his eyes slowly close and the smile moves to curl his lips in repose.

[End]


End file.
